The Empress wanders long lanes of night oak. She looks up from the portrait, west, into the lowering lids of buttercup.
From “Turifumy of Butterfly Breathing – after Anne Siems”

Your body is more like a gesture than a thing.
More like a song than a gesture.

I always enjoyed the story of how Ludwig Wittgenstein, after delivering a four-hour lecture to his class in Cambridge on the intricacies of some logical problem, would then go to a movie in town (his favorite genre was the American Western) and sit in the front row, letting the images inundate his overheated brain.

GYÖRGY FALUDY From Thomas Land, in Budapest BOOK after translated book, a soft-spoken poet who spent a long life writing in an awkward, minority language is taking his rightful place among the giants of world literature — even in his homeland. György Faludy was born in Budapest a century ago this September. He was a [...]

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